


Expensive Tastes

by pondertongue



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pondertongue/pseuds/pondertongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just another dinner between spouses. Leave it to Tony to spice things up a bit; and I don't mean the food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expensive Tastes

“Relax, Steven. I’ve got enough money to eat here for the rest of my natural life.” Stated Tony as he looked over his menu at Steve, raising his eyebrows; the whole ‘I’ve been frozen for 60 years so I don’t know anything’ spiel was usually cute, but not so much at this moment.  
“But everything here is so expensive. A fancy restaurant wasn’t this bad back in the 40’s.” Steve’s menu had been folded up and set to the side, and the man was currently playing with the cloth that the silverware came in.  
“It’s a little something called inflation, and people with money flaunt it more than they used to.” Tony replied in a dead-pan. He jumped slightly and the looked down, pulling something out of his pocket. A smirk appeared on his face.  
“What is it?” Steve asked, craning his neck to see what his husband was looking at.  
“Pepper says Peter’s slinging webs again and she can’t get him off the ceiling. She demands a pay raise, or she’s going to set him loose to come find us, anniversary or not.” The blonde’s face went pale.  
“She wouldn’t.”  
“She wouldn’t, but her efforts at trying to ruffle my feathers are endearing.” A sly look replaces the grin. “As are yours.” The playful tone in his voice causes Steve to look away, subtly loosening his tie. When he looks back, Tony’s gone. “T-Tony?” He stutters, looking around bewildered. Suddenly, feeling hands traveling slowly front the front of his knees to his inner thighs, he jerks the table cloth up. “Anthony Edward Stark.” Steve hissed, looking up to making sure no curious eyes were on them. “We are in public.” This only got him a shrug in response.  
“Order us some wine. I want the steak.” Steve saw and felt Tony’s hands go up to the button and zipper of his slacks, and he dropped the table cloth. This isn’t going to end well. The man swallowed an ever growing lump in his throat as he feels his husband’s hands pushing fabric up, down and out of the way. Looking around, he discreetly as possible lifts his hips to help his slacks slide down easier.   
By the time the waiter comes around, Steve’s redder in the face and neck than a tomato. He’s stuttering and fidgeting, breathing hard through his nose to keep his cool and not let on to what’s happening under the table. “I-I’d lii-hiike the uh…” He grabs his menu and fumbles with it for a second, trying to remember how to read English. “The… 11 oz S-sirloin, medium done, and the uh…” He takes a deep breath, trying to imagine kittens playing and his grandmother naked. The latter is more disgusting than a calming tactic, so he finds not much appetizing right now “I’ll just ha-ave the salmon. And a bottle of your best wine. Stat.” Steve nearly muddles that last sentence together, because Tony’s doing that thing with his tongue that nearly sends him over the edge. His husband was going to pay one way or another for this. How in the world were you supposed to act when a man was currently under the table, doing things with his mouth and teeth and tongue and hands that he’s not sure even the best prostitutes knew about?  
A minute later, Steve’s nearly bit through his lip trying to keep back sounds of an approaching climax. By now, his hands are clenched in Tony’s hair, and he can’t help but hold back rabbity little thrusts into that sinful mouth. It’s taking every single metaphorical inch of self-control to not join the billionaire under the table and give him rug burn on his knees. And of course, just when he’s about to come, the waiter comes back with the wine, nestled into a bucket of ice.   
“Would you like anything else tonight, sir?” Steve groans softly, trying to shoo the waiter away with a shaky hand. He knew he wouldn’t be able to mutter anything more than babble at this point. If he were any lesser a virtuous man, he’d be swearing and cursing Tony to the high heavens right then and there.   
“Tony, I’m gonna come.” He whispers loud enough for only his husband to hear, and within seconds Steve’s nearly breaking off the back of the chair trying to keep himself quiet.   
“So, did you enjoy it?” Tony asks later, after Peter is tucked into bed and Pepper has been relieved and given a generous tip. Steve just rolls over and ignores his husband for the rest of the night, and well into the next day. Juvenile, yes, but you didn’t suck off Steven Stark-Rogers in a restaurant for no reason and get away with it.


End file.
